REFLECTIONS OF A CONTROL UNIT SURVIVOR
I have been tortured in their isolation cell. I was not allowed to meet nor to talk with any other inmate. They made me mentally break down. I was emaciated, somewhat equal to the captives in the Nazi camp. It was not that they did not give me enough food (if you call it "food"); they harassed me to become neurotic and manic-depressive so that I could neither eat nor sleep. I felt myself like the living dead. Not until I could not stand any more and tried to commit suicide did they move me out of isolation confinement.
I went through that terrible time with a daily routine like a robot: get up in the morning and eat, go to the toilet, then lay myself down in the bunk until the next hour for food and toilet and on and on. The day was cold, the night was cold. I had no one to chat with, no visiting, no coffee, nothing, but just forced to face the cold wall, day and night. That drove me really mad. I managed to survive it somehow, but I swear, someday they will have to harvest the hatred they have planted inside me. I swear, I have been unrighteously and wickedly condemned for what I have not committed. They have oppressed me because I am their so-called outsider. They have broken my family apart and ruined my life.